Elisha Plasket
14 Published Stories
Elisha Plasket's Books and Stories
Rising From Ashes: The Untouchable Zillionaire Heiress
Modern I was locked in a freezing, bleach-scented asylum basement, my vocal cords ruined and my face chemically melted.
My step-sister Seraphina and my ex-lover Ethan walked in, but they didn't come to save me.
Seraphina forced a mirror to my face so I could see my own disfigured reflection.
"Your shares have been transferred to me," she whispered with a sickening smile.
Then she revealed the horrifying truth: she and her mother had orchestrated my mother's death and suffocated my beloved grandfather to steal his inheritance.
When I lunged at her in pure agony, Ethan shielded her and delivered a brutal kick to my ribs.
He grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head against the solid concrete wall with all his might.
As my vision swam with dark spots, I couldn't understand why my own father had sold me out to protect his wealth.
Why did the man I once loved treat me like a diseased rat while he fed on my family's corpses?
With my dying breath, I mentally cursed them to the deepest pits of hell.
Opening my eyes again, the blinding light of a crystal chandelier stabbed my pupils.
I was standing at my eighteenth birthday gala, unscarred and whole.
Seraphina was smiling sweetly, handing me a diamond-encrusted watch secretly implanted with a military-grade GPS tracker.
This time, blood would pay for blood. The Mafia King's Broken Captive Bride
Mafia I am the last surviving daughter of a murdered Mafia Don, kept as a captive trophy by Julian Moretti.
To break my spirit, he systematically drugged my meals, turning me into a ghost in his gilded cage.
But the true nightmare began when he brought his childhood sweetheart, Linette, to live under the same roof.
When she pushed me into the estate's frozen lake and fell in with me, Julian didn't hesitate.
He dove into the freezing black water, looked right into my desperate eyes, and turned his back to save her.
He left me to drown.
I survived the icy abyss, only to face a crueler fate.
To cover up his betrayal and secure his power, Julian announced our immediate wedding, planning to parade me before the Mafia Commission as his conquered property.
When I swallowed poison to escape the ultimate desecration of my family's name, he simply revived me.
He pumped my veins full of paralyzing sedatives, dressed my limp body like a porcelain doll, and dragged me onto his private jet to New York.
"They will see that even a proud, wounded lioness can only whimper at my feet."
My father and brother had used their own bodies as shields so I could live.
How could I let my family's honor be trampled by the very monster who orchestrated their massacre?
As the plane descended into New York, the despair in my veins forged into cold steel.
If Julian wanted a Marino bride, I would give him exactly what that meant.
I would survive this forced marriage, and I would personally slit his throat at the altar. His Silent Omega's Hidden White Wolf Bloodline
Werewolf I was the Lycan King's political wife, universally despised as a "wolfless Omega" freak.
When my husband, Kingsley, was poisoned with a lethal dose of silver at a pack gala, I disguised my scent and risked everything to drag him to safety.
But instead of recognizing his mate, he threw me to the wolves. He spent weeks tearing the city apart to find his "mysterious savior," while treating me like a sickening disease.
"Stay out of my sight. You reek of sickness."
He spat those words at me, completely blind to the fact that the scent he hated was the bleach I used to hide my tracks. Meanwhile, my abusive family publicly humiliated me, auctioning off my mother's grave to my worst enemy while Kingsley just watched in disgust.
I endured his icy glares and their venomous insults in silence. They all thought I was just a pathetic, empty shell they could crush. They didn't know I was "The Zero"—the phantom hacker currently bleeding their financial empires dry.
At the grand auction, I finally dropped the act. I wiped out my enemy's fortune with a single keystroke, bought my mother's land, and traded it to the Elders for my absolute freedom.
Now, as the auction screens bleed red, Kingsley is staring at me with dark, consuming shock. He finally realizes the lethal monster he’s been hunting was his submissive wife all along. He Killed Our Pup: The Alpha's Ultimate Regret
Werewolf My husband locked me in a glass cage in the center of the ballroom, announcing to the elite of the pack that my father was dead.
While his assistant, Debra, draped herself over him, Austen turned the thermostat down until industrial coolant pumped into my prison.
I was eight months pregnant with his heir, begging for mercy, but he only raised a champagne glass to his new "Nolan Pack."
To prove my submission, he ordered warriors to douse me in ice water laced with silver and wolfsbane.
The chemicals burned my skin, but the cold killed my unborn son.
As I lay in a pool of frozen red blood, watching the life fade from my womb, Austen finally panicked—not for me, but for his reputation.
My father, the Supreme Alpha, wasn't dead. He tore the doors off their hinges to save me, but it was too late for the baby.
Waking up in the hospital, empty and broken, I listened to Austen beg not for forgiveness, but for a cover-up to save the stock price.
"We can just make another one," he said, dismissing my dead son like a broken toy.
That was the moment the weak, loving wife died.
I stood up, my eyes glowing with the ancient silver light of the White Wolf.
I didn't just divorce him. I used the Alpha Voice to sever our bond, stripping him of his rank, his sanity, and his name.
Now, I am the Queen of the Winter Moon Pack. Too Late: The Don's Regretful Pursuit
Mafia I sat at the head of the mahogany table, the heavy heirloom emeralds around my neck marking me as the future Queen of the Cosa Nostra.
But the man beside me—Jax Viles, the most feared Don in New York—had his hand resting possessively on the thigh of the woman sitting to his right.
She wasn't his fiancée. I was.
The humiliation didn't stop at dinner. Jax moved her into my home, turned my dance studio into her closet, and when she pushed me down a flight of stairs, he stepped over my broken body to comfort her because she was "shaken up."
He started a bloody gang war just to defend her honor, yet ignored my desperate calls warning him of an ambush.
To him, I wasn't a partner. I was furniture—a fixture that was expected to be silent and useful. He would burn the world to ash for her, but for me, he wouldn't even skip a meeting.
So, while he was out celebrating his victory for her, I didn't wait for him to come home.
I left the engagement ring in the trash can next to the toilet.
On his desk, I left a single note: "I release you from the oath. I hope she's worth the war."
By the time he realized his mistake and came looking for his shadow, I was already gone, ready to become the Queen of my own life. The Betrayed Rose Rises Anew
Mafia He called me his wild rose, the foster kid he rescued from the streets. He built me a gilded cage and told me it was love.
Then I saw the text: my best friend, Karis, showing off the engagement ring he' d just given her.
I rushed to his office, only to overhear the truth. I was just a "placeholder," a "stray he picked up," a useful toy to keep his family happy while he planned his real future with her.
He laughed about how easily he could control me.
"A little gaslighting, a few well-placed gifts, and she'll be back where she belongs. Under my thumb."
His final act of love? Drugging me and handing me over to a monster, sacrificing me as a "body double" to protect his precious Karis.
He thought I was just a broken foster kid with nowhere to go. He thought he could erase me.
He was wrong. As the private jet he put me on exploded over the ocean, I was already gone-saved by the powerful family I never knew I had. Now, I'm coming back, and they will pay for every single lie. Kissed By My Brother
Young Adult He always called me his little bird.
For six years, since my parents died in that tragic fire, my uncle Michael Davies was my world.
He promised to protect me, to give me a gilded cage where I could feel safe.
But on the eve of my 18th birthday, that gilded cage became a prison.
I overheard him in his study, a phone call that shattered my entire existence.
He was talking to Emily White, his ex-fiancée, the woman he truly loved.
And in that chilling conversation, I learned the truth.
My "savior" had orchestrated a monstrous plan: he was going to auction me off at my own birthday party.
And Emily, the woman he swore he loved, revealed she was the one who set the fire that killed my parents.
My uncle knew.
He' d known all along.
Every sweet word, every gentle touch, every act of supposed kindness was a lie designed to keep me a pawn in his twisted game of revenge.
I was just a substitute, a cheap copy of the woman he truly desired.
The pain was unbearable, a betrayal so profound it left me gasping for air.
But the girl who loved Michael Davies died in that hallway.
A new Sarah was born, cold, hard, and desperate to escape.
I would not be his victim.
I would not be their entertainment.
I would survive this.
My only escape was a desperate plea to his grandfather: arranging a marriage to a comatose man, miles away.
It felt like a desolate choice, a sacrifice for freedom.
But it was my only hope.
I had to get out. Sunlight and Solace
Romance One month before my wedding, a text from an unknown number shattered my perfect world.
It was a photo: Chloe' s hand, unmistakably, holding a positive pregnancy test, with a single, chilling line of text: "Congrats on being a dad. Or, stepdad, I guess. - Jake."
My fiancée, Chloe, didn't deny it. She laughed, casually admitting she only agreed to marry me to make her ex-boyfriend, Jake, jealous. Every memory, every tender moment, twisted into a cruel performance.
I stood there, surrounded by wedding invitations, realization dawning: I wasn' t a partner; I was a prop in her twisted game, about to become a convenient father for another man' s child. The woman I adored had meticulously built our future on a foundation of calculated lies.
The betrayal was total, tearing through my very core. How could I have been so blind, so foolishly tethered to a ghost? The humiliation burned.
I tore the wedding invitation in half and told her I was done, disappearing from her life. I packed my bags, leaving the broken pieces of my past behind, and headed to the farthest, coldest corner of the Earth: the Arctic, determined to freeze her out of my soul and rebuild a life she could never touch. The Forensic Bride
Horror Havenwood, Maine, was a town owned by the Thorne family, but their ancient mansion held an even darker grip through a chilling tradition.
Each new Thorne bride spent her wedding night alone in the windowless Founder's Study, a tradition that consistently ended in death, just like my sister Sarah's eight years ago.
Police ruled Sarah's brutal throat-slitting a "suicide," a convenient lie swiftly followed by seven more inexplicable deaths of Julian Thorne's brides in the very same room.
No one believed Sarah could do that, nor could the champion swimmer who supposedly drowned herself in a tiny basin, yet my father succumbed to the narrative, claiming we couldn't fight the powerful Thornes.
But I refused to let it go, spending eight years mastering forensic psychology, and now I'm back in Havenwood, declaring to a stunned town and a resigned Julian: "I will be his ninth bride." The Husband's Verdict
Modern I sacrificed everything for her.
My top-tier university scholarship, my architectural dreams, all to work for her father' s firm, playing the perfect, accommodating husband to Chloe for five long years.
One Tuesday, curiosity led my hand to unlock an ornate wooden box on her vanity, a box she claimed held precious family heirlooms.
Inside, there was no jewelry.
Only a discreet urn and two receipts: one for a D&C procedure, the other for cremation. My blood ran cold when I saw the 'father' s name' wasn't mine.
It was Leo, the musician she' d painted as a crazed stalker, the man I' d served a restraining order to protect her from.
That restraining order, my very act of protection, wasn't a deterrent to their affair; it was the ultimate foreplay, according to a recording I later heard. Her family dismissed my pain, my father-in-law openly favored Leo, even hiring him to work alongside me.
But the true breaking point came when Chloe watched, impassively, as I thrashed in a cold lake, struggling to breathe after she pushed me in. She walked away, leaving me to drown.
The love I had for her didn't just die; it was extinguished, replaced by a chilling void. It wasn't about anger or sadness anymore, but an utter sense of betrayal that twisted my entire reality.
And that's when the plan began to form. A cold, precise design to give them the "legacy" they truly deserved, on the biggest stage of all: the dedication ceremony of the skyscraper I designed. A Second Chance At Tragedy
Modern It began innocently enough.
My high school roommate, Jessica, needed a place to stay during a break, just as my older brother, David, was prepping for his SATs, his ticket to an Ivy League dream.
My trusting parents welcomed her into our home.
Then, the nightmare struck.
A scream in the night.
Jessica, teary-eyed, accused David of something unspeakable-a monstrous, venomous lie.
That lie didn' t just stick; it decimated us.
David's scores plunged, his dreams shattered, expelled from school.
He found a dead-end job, then an accident claimed his life.
Our parents, heartbroken, soon followed.
And Jessica? She remained, a parasite feeding on our grief, playing the survivor while I simmered with impotent rage until everything ended in fire.
The memory was a raw, bleeding wound-the profound injustice, the agony of watching my family crumble from a fabrication.
Why did it have to end like that?
Why couldn't I have seen through her sweet facade sooner?
But then, I gasped awake, sunlight streaming through my familiar window.
The calendar showed the exact date.
Downstairs, I heard her voice: Jessica' s.
I was back.
This wasn't a dream.
This was a second chance, a fierce, burning clarity-a chance to save David, my parents, and myself, and to dismantle Jessica' s wicked game, piece by deceitful piece. The Madwoman's Master Plan
Modern The bright town fair turned dark when my ten-year-old daughter Lily, clutching her voice recorder, was tormented by Brandon, my ex-husband' s girlfriend' s son. When he shoved her, my defensive slap echoed, breaking my world.
That protective act was instantly weaponized by Mark' s manipulative partner, Victoria. Convinced I was "unhinged," my ex-husband Mark swiftly sent us to "Tranquil Pathways Youth Academy" -a grim place, more prison than therapy.
Inside, I was systematically drugged, shamed, and isolated. They promised Lily' s well-being hinged on my "compliance" while she vanished into a "specialized unit." To Mark, I was painted as psychotic, my desperate pleas dismissed, yet my mother's intuition screamed betrayal.
The injustice and helplessness maddened me. My ex-husband had abandoned us, believing their lies. Lily was gone, somewhere in those cold walls, and I was being stripped of my mind, consumed by fear for her.
Months later, Mark arrived, finally doubting. Through my drugged stupor, chilling clarity led him to a hidden floorboard in my desolate room. There, beside Lily' s lifeless body, was her cherished recorder-holding the undeniable truth, and igniting a cold, unyielding vengeance within me. Marrying My Childhood Sweetheart
Modern Richard is only a year older than me, but he has always used his status as my older brother to pressure me.
When we were kids, he would scold me for skipping class, and as we grew up, he would still interfere in my love life.
My friends joked, "Your brother can't possibly like you, right? You two aren't even real siblings."
Since then, I deliberately distanced myself from him, but during the New Year, he suddenly brought home a girl.
"Tricia, call her sister-in-law."
That night, I locked myself in my room and cried uncontrollably.
He pulled me out from under the covers and gently wiped away my tears.
"You're allowed to make me mad by dating a boyfriend, but I can't be upset with you?" You might like
The Abandoned Heiress Is A Secret Zillionaire
Zaccaria Linn Seventeen years after going missing, Brooklyn was finally brought back to her ultra-wealthy biological family.
But instead of a tearful reunion, her parents and sisters treated her like infectious garbage, mocking her cheap clothes and calling her a country bumpkin.
They dumped her into a remedial class to hide her away, cut off her allowance, and threatened to lock down her trust fund to force her into absolute submission.
One night, Brooklyn stood in the shadows of the estate and overheard a conversation that shattered everything.
She hadn't wandered off as a child.
Her parents had deliberately thrown her away because a fake fortune teller claimed her birth chart was a jinx to the family's wealth.
They felt zero remorse, only plotting to banish her again the moment she turned eighteen.
Her biological father thought he was putting a leash on a helpless, uneducated girl by cutting off her pocket change.
He had no idea that Brooklyn was the anonymous VIP who casually dropped sixty million dollars on an emerald at the city's most exclusive auction.
He didn't know she was the elusive medical genius that the world's most powerful billionaires were currently tearing the city apart to find.
The last microscopic shred of hope for a family withered into cold ash in her chest.
"Lock down my trust fund?"
She pulled out her encrypted phone and activated her shadow networks, severing herself entirely from their pathetic surveillance.
Since they believed she was a jinx, she was going to show them exactly what a real curse looked like. Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
Jilted Fiancée? No, The Billionaire Heiress!
Luo Xi I hid my identity as the heiress of a top-tier wealthy family just to build a normal, quiet life with my fiancé, Jefferey.
We had just picked out our dream villa, but a sudden bank notification shattered my illusion.
The entire $7.8 million from our joint trust fund had been wired to a woman named Jessie Barr.
When I hacked into his synced tablet, the truth hit me like a truck. Jessie wasn't just a stranger; she was his secret lover.
They even had a four-year-old son who shared Jefferey's exact eyes.
"The money is in your account. Our future is secure now. I'll leave her soon."
Reading his messages to her, I realized my three years of devotion were nothing but a long con.
I was just the final "project" he needed to fund his real family.
He used my resources, my connections, and my money to build a life in the shadows with his true love, treating me like a naive piggy bank he could discard at any moment.
I had given up my absolute power for a man who fed me nothing but lies.
But Jefferey forgot one crucial detail. I wasn't just some helpless woman he could ruin.
I calmly closed my laptop and dialed a number I hadn't called in three years.
"Mom, I was wrong. I'm ready to accept the Romero family's marriage alliance."
It was time to gut his company and take everything he owned. The Discarded Wife Is A Mafia Queen
Shore Tour I am the wife of Dante Moretti, a powerful Mafia Underboss. But in secret, I am "Spettro," the phantom architect who built his entire encrypted bootlegging empire.
On my birthday, I came home to find him gifting our five-year-old daughter the exact plush toy he had violently slapped out of my hands months ago. Only this time, he was giving it to his mistress, Adriana, to present as her own.
"Auntie Adriana is a million times better than Mommy."
My daughter's innocent words pierced my heart, while Dante coldly dismissed my presence, treating me like an unwelcome stranger interrupting their perfect family. He mocked my mothering, allowed his mistress to sever my desperate phone calls with my child, and weaponized his power to break our daughter's spirit just to spite me. He sneered that my only purpose was to stay quiet, absolutely certain I would crawl back the second my allowance ran dry.
He thought I was just a weak, submissive wife who had lost everything. He didn't realize that the empire he arrogantly ruled was entirely built on my stolen brilliance.
I left my diamond ring on the table, violently slashed our ancient blood oath in half, and walked out of his gilded cage forever.
Sitting in a cold warehouse, I placed my hands on my telegraph machine and initiated the Ghost Protocol to permanently paralyze his entire criminal network.
The era of playing the dutiful wife was over. I am Donna Falcone, and the vendetta has just begun. The Unwanted Bride Becomes The City's Queen
Breeze I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return. You Called Me Barren, Mr. Sterile Don
Gong Zi On my birthday, my husband Dante asked for a divorce over a plate of cold lasagna.
He held my hand, tears in his eyes, and told me his mistress was pregnant.
"It’s a miracle, Elena," he wept. "God has finally given me a son."
He looked at me with pity, calling me "broken" because I hadn't given him an heir in eight years.
He moved his pregnant mistress into the penthouse I paid for, and his mother mocked me as a "dry vine" while cooking tonic soups for the new woman.
They didn't know the truth I had buried three years ago.
I remembered the day the doctor slid the file across the desk: *Azoospermia. Zero sperm count.*
Dante was the sterile one.
I had burned the results to protect his fragile ego as a Mafia Don. I took the blame. I drank his mother's vile herbal poisons every morning until I vomited, just to keep his secret.
Now, he was discarding me for a "miracle" that was biologically impossible.
I signed the divorce papers without a tear.
Then I bought the debt of his company, put on a blood-red dress, and walked into his heir's Christening.
I didn't come to object.
I came to plug a USB drive into the projector and show the entire underworld exactly whose "miracle" that baby really was. Mafia Don's Regret: His Heir Never Existed
Felix Turner On the night of my twenty-fourth birthday, my husband walked into our heavily guarded penthouse with his pregnant childhood friend and demanded a divorce to protect her bastard child—entirely oblivious to the fact that I was carrying his.
My posture became a rigid thing at the long mahogany dining table.
The wicks of the candles I had spent hours preparing had drowned, leaving greasy craters in the frosting.
On the far side of that ruined confection, Christian Cavallaro stood.
He was the Don of the Cavallaro Family—a man who had left two rival syndicates cooling on mortuary slabs before his twenty-fifth birthday, whose name was a quiet command that could make hardened men lower their eyes. His dark suits were always tailored to perfection, hiding the lethal weapons and scars beneath.
But right now, he was just the man breaking my heart with a single sentence.
Serena stood slightly behind him, her hand a pale guard over her still-flat stomach.
She was a high-ranking Capo's daughter, a glamorous socialite who had spent the last few years in Europe. Now she was back, pregnant with a child fathered by an outsider from an enemy faction.
In our circle, that was a crime punishable by death.
Christian took a step closer. His gaze fell to the hollow of my collarbone. In the dim light, his pupils were wide, the shadows obscuring his intent.
He told me the syndicate demanded blood for Serena's transgression. The only way to shield her was to give her child the protection of his name. He needed to marry her.
My hand moved to my own flat stomach.
Beneath my palm was the secret I had planned to share tonight—the tiny heartbeat I had imagined would complete our fractured family.
A sudden, glacial clarity settled in my bones.
I looked at the man who had pulled me out of the blood and trauma of my parents' assassination ten years ago. They had been loyal soldiers, dying to take bullets meant for his father. In return, I had been made a ward of the estate. A decade of devotion, bartered for this. I had folded my medical school acceptance letter and tucked it away to become a silent, suitable wife. I had weathered his mother's remarks about my low-ranking blood, learning to arrange my face into a serene mask.
I had thought my devotion would eventually thaw his cold exterior.
I was wrong.
Christian reiterated the necessity of the divorce. He said it was only a temporary measure.
I looked at Serena, and saw the smirk that flickered for an instant behind her sculpted mask of fear.
I realized then that bringing a child into this penthouse—where any window might splinter inward from a sniper's bullet—would be a life sentence. My baby would be born into a cage of paranoia and blood, with Serena's poisoned presence a permanent threat.
If I revealed my condition now, his child would forever chain me to his syndicate.
I would never be free. Neither would my child.
I lowered my hand from my stomach and folded it over my other hand on the table.
I looked directly into my husband's eyes, and I told him I agreed to the divorce. 
/1/119735/coverorgin.jpg?v=2af7043548ae4d2814909d63bd78508f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/116375/coverorgin.jpg?v=62366e9c44d175d070efa18c8528f91b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114921/coverorgin.jpg?v=d90d7ca4a525d43af5eab87d9929d1a3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/112165/coverorgin.jpg?v=b7bbcd1e886e2e07190d7d5fb0231079&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/107120/coverorgin.jpg?v=1bb13022f0e012709ddc4b743678bd5e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/102846/coverorgin.jpg?v=908e149594baa7be84666aeb893c7ade&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/102819/coverorgin.jpg?v=a617482dc12f331777919667aac45637&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86402/coverorgin.jpg?v=6661f8e2547013071cc49bc67b4c03d9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84575/coverorgin.jpg?v=7729151a3a9fbf79a57d94d9a5a14b02&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83976/coverorgin.jpg?v=153275f3cee12f72eb4da1592869a717&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83812/coverorgin.jpg?v=3bad48b4de11627c80c2d280b4a03f3e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82578/coverorgin.jpg?v=370a23aab51c3e3c36c2a807439a3ac3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81431/coverorgin.jpg?v=da558b107ba862f2e0fddc5043fed830&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/61215/coverorgin.jpg?v=7a469372e47d08e4f91137827cb9c7e7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113925/coverorgin.jpg?v=4deabceeb44e4aed4e042acc3656d345&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/115381/coverorgin.jpg?v=081f1f50b200dbdf8b7385c75644d8ad&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106756/coverorgin.jpg?v=97365198d2e42e4794a57a69368cfbf7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101314/coverorgin.jpg?v=f7bc3984038d5b65e64e33e11a26238f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114681/coverorgin.jpg?v=afc98375fb3cbaccbdf70eb3483a4feb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/121261/coverorgin.jpg?v=c72d2aceb2e2729e7656d346b27f636f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/112273/coverorgin.jpg?v=119fb71cc6a6aba85416b095d812c54a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/100249/coverorgin.jpg?v=500241bf6fe1e88ae390b71c991c1a78&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/118974/coverorgin.jpg?v=dc99e5b8feb3fdb4b212a5da9d43006d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/119875/coverorgin.jpg?v=5231c62ce276c5b0632fafd3c99e3813&imageMogr2/format/webp)